CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. “What have you been doing since our last talk? Still cutting up rabbits and probing into things? I’ve often thought of that talk of ours—often. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. "Nothing whatever," rejoined the thief-taker, coldly.
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